A Stiff Drink
by melancholic
Summary: Remus has a midlife crisis. Sirius helps him cope. RLNT, set during OOtP.


A/N: I know I should be updating "Spectrum," (really, has it been almost two months?) but I got rather preoccupied with the All Hallows' Moon Jumble over at Metamorfic Moon on LiveJournal. This is one of the fics I wrote for it, with the prompts a day of the heebie-jeebies, Moste Potente Potions (book), humor, and a picture of a chair in a library. This is my first attempt at humor, so I apologize in advance for any OOC-ness you might find here. Feedback would be very much appreciated. :)

Many thanks to artificial-sprite, my fabulous beta and friend, for cheering me on, brainstorming with me, and basically just keeping me sane.

I hope you enjoy this fic!

* * *

**A Stiff Drink**

Remus Lupin was a man afraid of his own reflection.

Granted, there were scarier things than waking up with a face like his greeting him in the mirror. Things like Lord Voldemort, dementors, Dolores Umbridge, acromantulas, silver poisoning, tuna… with evils like these in the world, worrying about how repulsive he looked like should be the least of his priorities.

But that didn't stop him from cringing at what he saw. It made him wish he was a vampire instead of an old, impoverished werewolf. That way, he wouldn't have a reflection to be revolted at.

Especially when, after blinking multiple times just to check if he really was imagining the extra gray hairs that sprouted on his head, he regained his focus and looked at himself up close. It was getting to be a bad habit, a growing addiction that he had no control over. Lately, he had taken to spending an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror, tilting his head in various angles to try and see which view would let him peer at his reflection the best. And Remus showed no mercy in his assessment – as his nose touched the cool, unforgiving glass and his eyes narrowed at the salt-and-pepper state his hair had prematurely grown into, the way his fringe refused to stop flopping on his forehead, the crow's feet at the corners of his tired, brown eyes, the stubble he missed from yesterday's shave, the small, new scars from last month's transformation…

Remus rolled his eyes and frowned at himself. Thirty-odd years of physical deterioration, and what to show in return?

_Good Godric, I sound like a... woman._

He shook his head. Not all women were as vain as he was being. And it wasn't _vanity_, per se – he could hardly call it that when he kept on nitpicking his appearance in a manner that _very_ far from narcissism. Though if he kept this up, he probably wasn't far down the road to asking Sirius if his tatty old robes made his arse look big or this and that jumper made him look fat. No, it was being _self-conscious_. And he had a perfectly good reason to be, because—

"Nobody expects you to look like Gilderoy Lockhart, Lupin."

Remus almost slipped on the bathroom floor in shock. Because he was up at an ungodly hour of the morning _and_ expending an unhealthy amount of energy obsessing over his looks, he had nearly forgotten that the very mirror that had to put up with his sorry face had once belonged to Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, and was thus given to sharing its often unnecessary observations on whosoever decided to examine themselves in it.

_I'm having a staring contest with a mirror previously owned by a woman who won't hesitate to hex me into next week when she sees me and who thinks my kind is filthier than owl dung. And it just compared me to Gilderoy Lockhart. I have officially reached my life's lowest point._

"Really, Lupin. There's no point in wasting your time. Staring at yourself like this won't make you any more attractive." Remus arched a brow and scowled as the mirror continued its tirade. "There is no hope for Dark creatures like you, especially since you also have filthy Muggle blood running through your veins. Now, if you were only_normal_ and blessed with the _youthful_ Black genes—"

It was at this point that Remus decided he really was a sucker for punishment because his fist still hadn't shattered the offending mirror.

"—you're nearing forty, aren't you? Tsk tsk, I don't believe you should expect too much at this rate."

"Mirror," he said, more than a little stung and dejected. "_Do_ shut up."

"I'm just trying to help. There's nothing wrong with giving you a reality check, is there?" the mirror asked in a tone that, were it a human, would have been accompanied by a shrug and a sneer.

_Reality check._ Remus said nothing as he went back to scrutinizing himself in the mirror that was now snickering at him. He really ought to get one of those. Because what was he thinking, believing that he could possibly ask _her_ out? He had nothing to offer her, didn't even have two Knuts to rub together (not that he was wholly inadequate in that _other_ department, mind you), became a bloodthirsty beast once a month, and even had a bloody mirror making disparaging remarks about how old and ugly he looked -- who in her right mind would consider ever giving him the time of the day?

There was nothing more he could do than to bang his head repeatedly against the mirror. This way, he was getting what he deserved _and_ giving himself that all-too-needed reality check, what with the string of expletives the mirror was now shouting at him and the dull pain that started to spread on his forehead.

"Moony, _what_ in Merlin's name are you doing? It's too early for you to be drunk and stoop to such a low level in your desperation, trying to snog a mirror."

Remus paused and drew his head back, turning sideways to gaze at the door. Sirius Black was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and a smirk fixed on his lips.

"I am _not_ trying to snog a mirror, Sirius." He said this as matter-of-factly and indignantly as he could, and cursed his reddening cheeks for betraying him. "Especially not one that obviously thinks me so unattractive."

"Well, I didn't force you to spend majority of the last hour staring at your reflection," the mirror interjected. "Honestly, I've grown quite tired of your face and I think you would do well to shut your eyes permanently to be spared of its horror. It's not like you can blame yourself for being born with such hideous features."

Remus turned his attention back to the mirror and gave it the darkest look he could muster. He didn't know who was laughing harder – Sirius or the mirror. Great, just what he needed. An inanimate object and his old friend — who could make him feel so inferior in the looks department just by shaking his head and letting that shaggy black hair fall into his eyes — to gang up on him and join in his little pity party. Somewhere in his mind, Remus thought he could still hear the witches back at school sigh and giggle.

"It's got a point, mate." Sirius finally managed to speak, a hand reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes and the other resting on his belly. "You haven't got a hope of holding a candle to my level of attractiveness. I _am_ oozing with the Black genes for utter gorgeousness."

"Or the genes for being an utter pillock."

"What can I say? I'm a Black. We're known for being royal pains in the arse." Sirius grinned and went on, "But the fact of the matter is, the mirror is right. Remus, you have absolutely no chance of being as gorgeous as I am. Even if I _can_ be a prick, the whole thing about being blessed with good looks and a charming personality sort of evens it out."

"As gorgeous as you 'were,' you mean." Remus corrected, barely able to keep from snorting. "Azkaban isn't exactly a beauty parlor, you know."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Admit it, Moony. You're just jealous. I've got the whole dark, brooding hero thing going on, and the girls just love it. You and I both know that being attractive would be a great plus in helping you snag a certain pink-haired Auror named—oof!" A well-aimed punch to the gut cut him off. "Wow, Lupin. I didn't know you had it in you. I always thought you hit like a girl."

"There'll be more where that came from, Black," Remus hissed, his eyes darting frantically towards the open bathroom door and into the hallway. Where anyone, had they chosen to walk by at that moment, could have overheard Sirius' huge mouth blurt out some horribly incriminating information. Which _she_ could have heard. The last thing Remus wanted Nymphadora Tonks to hear was solid evidence that he was obsessing over his looks because of her, and that he was actually trying to enlist Sirius' help in finding ways to be more attractive to her.

The panic Remus felt rose to an alarmingly high level. He directed his glare at Sirius this time, who gave a resounding bark of laughter.

"I'm just taking the piss out of you, Moony."

"I'm quite aware of that, Padfoot." Remus nodded at his friend and folded his arms across his chest. "As aware as I am of my sudden need to find a way to take some Polyjuice Potion every day, for the rest of my life, just to look like you. I daresay I'd play the part better, because one, I'm not trapped in this house and I'd actually be free to chase some girls, and two—" He was interrupted by six words that, coming from Sirius Black, never failed to make him wish he could run away screaming into the night:

"That's it! I have an idea."

Remus could almost see the light bulbs flashing wildly in his friend's mind. His stomach clenched in anticipation and fright. Cold fear glued him to the spot as Sirius exited the room with an evil glint in his eyes and a grin that he could only classify as maniacal.

Sirius stopped in his tracks and threw Remus and impatient look over his shoulder. "What the hell are you waiting for, Remus? Hurry up! I'll see you in the library. You'll be kissing my well-toned arse and calling me a genius after this."

Nothing, at that moment, seemed more terrifying to Remus than to hear the words Sirius, library, arse, and genius in the same statement.

His best friend bounded further down the corridor in apparent glee over his own ingenuity. Remus knew he was going to hate himself for what he was about to do. He looked at the mirror one last time.

His frightened expression reflected in the mirror was the last thing he saw before he gave a resigned sigh and backed out into the hallway.

* * *

"I know it's in here, somewhere!" Sirius grumbled from behind a shelf full of dusty books, running his index finger through numerous titles. 

Remus extended his legs out in front of him and sank deeper back into the cushions of the settee. It was always more fun and satisfying to watch Sirius whine and do all the hard work by himself, because Remus knew that once the cogs in his friend's head began to turn and he finished formulating whatever so-called ingenious plan he had, Sirius would stand back and laugh as Remus suffered. Which happened too many times in the past to count, and resulted in memories too embarrassing to even bother remembering. He would take his chance to watch Padfoot suffer for as long as he could, because if he got lucky enough, the former might die from a dust-bunny induced death. Remus grinned. He knew there was a good reason he loved libraries.

"Will you wipe that smirk off of your face? Here I am, trying to help you, and you're just sitting there, looking all pleased with yourself. I expected a little more gratitude, but no…" Sirius huffed, emerging from the shelves with stacks of heavy tomes piled in his arms.

"I don't seem to remember asking for your assistance," Remus smoothly reminded him from his place on the settee. "And it would make the situation a whole lot easier to bear if you actually told me what we were looking for."

"For someone who spends all his time living like a hermit in this library, I'm surprised at your lack of enthusiasm," Sirius remarked as he deposited the books at Remus' feet with a_thud_. "We're going to look for my mother's old copy of _Moste Potente Potions._ She used to keep it in a place where we could easily locate it, but since Kreacher's last rampage, I couldn't find it anymore."

Remus' eyes widened as the now-too-familiar panic made his chest tighten. "What are you planning, Sirius, that would involve me and an old volume on potions recipes that was kept in the Hogwarts library's_restricted section_ for entirely good reasons?"

It was Sirius' turn to smirk. "You'll see."

The moment the title of the book left Sirius' mouth, Remus instantly knew he was done for. Which was why he was _not_ going to tell him that he knew its exact location, wedged in between_Sonnets of a Sorcerer_ and _Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires_ in the highest shelf of the bookshelf nearest to the door.

Besides,_Moste Potente Potions_ was a book chock full of dark magic, sometimes giving too much information that bordered on the graphic and the grotesque. His stomach churned as he recalled the different diagrams that illustrated the recipes for potions it contained, ranging from the man who got turned completely inside out, his internal organs exposed for all and sundry to see, and the witch who had grown extra arms on her head. For the life of him, Remus couldn't fathom why some witches and wizards wanted to take these potions. It couldn't be because of boredom, could it? Not that he didn't know the effects of trying out some dangerous potion or spell he learned in a book out of boredom. Still, voluntarily turning yourself inside out and letting your entrails spill all over the floor was too much. As if the Wolfsbane Potion didn't taste horrible enough…

"…you'll be surprised at the horrible but bloody brilliant potions that book has!" Sirius exclaimed, pulling Remus out of his not-so-pleasant reverie. Apparently, his best mate was about to launch into another long-winded story that was probably pointless. Remus sighed and braced himself. "One summer, I was so bored so I decided to look through it. Let me just say that some potions I found made me think twice about the book's name and the connection between the potions that made sure you were, er… _potent_."

"Padfoot, I think that's where I draw the line. Too much information, if you will." A thought suddenly crossed his mind, and it made him snigger. "And what were you doing, looking up potions to make sure you didn't become impotent during crucial moments?"

To his utmost pleasure, Sirius actually looked uncomfortable. Remus grinned triumphantly, for it was no easy feat to make Sirius Black squirm. "Never you mind, Moony. We're here to find a solution to your little mid-life crisis." It was Remus' turn be mortified. A devilish grin curled Sirius' lips as he went on, "I mean, if you want to call it that. I can't think of a better term to describe your little episode in front of my cousin's old mirror. You're not the type who usually preens, after all."

"So I wake up one morning just to study my reflection in the mirror. I have always had such a depressingly large amount of gray hair for someone who hasn't even hit forty. Is it wrong that it just sunk in even more today and I wanted to look for some redeeming feature in my face?" Remus shot back defensively, his cheeks slightly coloring.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Remus," Sirius automatically butt in. "It didn't just sink in today. I saw you a couple of times 'studying your reflection' on window panes and at the back of your spoon during meals. Don't deny it!" he said, raising his voice when he saw Remus about to protest. "And you didn't use to be _this_ self-conscious before. Until Tonks came along, of course, and you started acting like a total twit around her. It would be quite endearing to watch, actually, if I didn't get tired of watching you tiptoe around your feelings for her and not do anything about them."

Remus couldn't do anything else but wonder aloud in genuine amazement, "Since when did you become so observant?"

Sirius' smug expression grew haughtier. "And you thought I didn't do anything but spend all my time with Ogden's Best and brood in front of Buckbeak and his dead rats."

Remus chuckled weakly. He couldn't quite be as appreciative of his friend's observation skills at a time like this, not when the feelings he fought so hard to suppress and to keep a secret were finally thrown out in the open. At least, Remus thought with defeat, Sirius would finally get off his case about his so-called mid-life crisis. He would undoubtedly see this from Remus' point-of-view, and understand just why he was so sure Tonks wouldn't even give him a second look.

Clearly, he had overestimated Sirius' comprehension skills. "So why then aren't you doing anything about it, Moony? She obviously fancies you, too. Spends more time hanging around you more than anyone else, and the sight of you always turns the tips of her hair bright pink, whatever outrageous color it originally is."

"Sirius," Remus started, as though he were explaining basic arithmancy to a five-year-old, "Tonks doesn't fancy me. The probability of it coming true is almost as high as my chances of getting a job, based on the current political climate. Or me staying human during the full moon. It's just impossible, and it won't happen in the near future."

Sirius quirked a brow. "Is that all? Or are you going to say anything else?"

Remus heaved an exasperated sigh. "What will it take for you to understand that I'm too old, too poor, and too dangerous for her?"

Sirius said nothing for a few moments. Remus began to relax, thinking that he had finally got through to his thick skull, when he realized that Padfoot was looking thoughtful. Too thoughtful, in fact. The paranoia over just what his friend was planning resurfaced once more.

"Well, obviously, we can't do anything about the werewolf thing. And seeing as you're too daft and you won't accept any money from me and I can't exactly go out to help you find a job, there's not much we can do about the poor thing, either. But… there's something we can certainly do about the 'too old' thing."

"And what's that?" Remus squeaked, almost too scared to find out the answer.

"We're going to make you look young again." Sirius ignored his reaction and went on as though he didn't notice Remus' eyes widen and his jaw drop. "And to do that, we need to find _Moste Potente Potions_. Trust me, I know there's a potion in there that'll do the trick. Now…" Sirius leaned over and grabbed him by the elbows, pulling him sharply to his feet. "You're going to tell me where it is."

Remus didn't know just _what_ possessed him to follow Sirius's orders. He walked soundlessly to the bookshelf and plucked out _Moste Potente Potions_, coughing as a cloud of dust hovered momentarily in the air. He trained his eyes to the ground as he headed towards Sirius, who took the book out of his hands and began to leaf through it, the evil glint back in his eyes.

Oh yes, he was _definitely_ going to regret this.

* * *

At first, Remus thought that what Sirius said about there being an anti-aging potion in _Moste Potente Potions_ was utter bullocks. What would a potion like that be doing in a book full of gruesome recipes and illustrations? Then again, if he thought better about it, there were also Dark wizards who might want to make themselves appear more attractive to suit their dastardly ends. And this was also where they got the recipe for Polyjuice Potion. And Sirius _had_ managed to find a potion that was, according to him, more effective than Muggle Viagra. Which said quite a lot about the dangers that this particular potions book presented, and said nothing about just why Remus was allowing himself to be exposed to them. 

As much as he hated to admit it, it looked like Sirius was right. Remus had known what it was like to be subjected to the Black gene for stubbornness since his Hogwarts days, so he didn't think any kind of persuading on his part would change Sirius' mind.

But that didn't stop him from trying.

"Sirius, are you sure about this?" Remus asked for the umpteenth time, nervousness shaking his voice. "Really, I don't think this is necessary. I'll just save up for a nice hair dye, or work on finding a spell that'll make the gray hairs less conspicuous."

"Moony, how many times do I have to tell you to trust me? You'll get faster results this way." Sirius looked up from the cauldron he was stirring. "Besides, the war would've been over by the time you manage to save enough money for that dye or find that spell. We tried to do a spell like that at Hogwarts, remember? It didn't work," Sirius said pointedly.

Remus didn't need another reminder of just how long his prematurely-graying hair had been plaguing him. He also didn't want to remember what happened the various times Sirius had told him to "trust me."

He sighed and pored over the pages of the book once more. Sirius was humming some Weird Sisters tune that Tonks had probably forced him to listen to on the wireless. As Remus' eyes scanned the worn, damp-spotted pages, he found his mind weighing the consequences of just what they were doing. The diagrams that went with the potion's instructions weren't encouraging, either.

An old wizard, his face merely discernable due to wrinkles, was hunched over, leaning on a cane; his lips were twisted in a strange smile that revealed the gaps in his teeth and a few strands of hair stood on his bald head. The potion, he read, worked its magic through an eventual process. It depended on how much he took and how often he drank it (thank Merlin, it meant that he wouldn't be shocking anyone with his new-and-improved appearance that soon). The succeeding illustrations showed that the man's back was upright, his teeth had grown back, and his head was thickly filled with hair. And he actually looked quite handsome.

Remus was slightly comforted by the fact that his case wasn't as extreme as the man in the picture. He only planned to shed a few years, not a few decades. Surely he would not -- he squinted at the warning on the bottom of the page -- turn into a _baby_ because of prolonged use of the potion?

_Oh, bollocks. What am I getting myself into?_

The ingredients included frozen ashwinder eggs, an ounce of armadillo bile, fluxweed, flobberworm mucus, bubotuber pus, a feather from a peacock, and some murtlap essence. They all sounded quite disgusting to him, and that was saying a lot from someone forced to gulp down Wolfsbane Potion once a month. He read the ingredients once more and shook his head; he didn't have the patience to try and understand what the significance of these strange things was to the potion that would make him look younger. The only class he hadn't gotten an "Outstanding" or "Exceeds Expectations" in was Potions under Slughorn, after all.

"You know, I never thought that I'd find any use for my father's private stores for potion ingredients," Sirius mused, and Remus looked up from the fluxweed he was currently chopping. "I think they must've combed through every single recipe in this book and made sure at least half-a-century would pass until we ran out of ingredients."

"Would it matter or not if some of those ingredients aren't fresh?" Remus queried apprehensively. Fear settled at the pit of his stomach as he waited for Sirius' response.

"No, I don't think so. The instructions don't give any kind of warning about that," Sirius answered. "And I don't think you're in the mood to drop by Knockturn Alley to buy some, are you? Or hell, grovel at Snivellus' feet." He didn't know which of the two suggestions Sirius made appealed to him less. Remus wrinkled his nose in distaste. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to resort to either option.

They worked together in relative silence, or at least as silent as Sirius could be while swearing at the worsening stench of their potion. Not that it made any difference to Remus' nostrils, as Sirius' bedroom was one of the rooms in Grimmauld Place that had the most curious mix of smells emerging from it. Beggars couldn't be choosers – it was the only private place they could find on short notice. And he never bothered to ask Sirius just what made his room stink so much. Horrible mental images due to speculation came to mind.

When the potion finally turned a bright shade of green, Remus released a sigh of relief. Miraculously, it seemed as though they had done all their chopping, stirring, measuring, and adding the ingredients in the proper order correctly. Now, there was one more thing left to do – wait. Remus swallowed and braced himself as he watched the surface of the potion bubble in the cauldron. They needed to let the potion settle for about an hour before it turned into a turquoise-colored, milky substance.

And then came the hard part – drinking it. Remus shuddered at the thought and wondered if it would taste worse than Wolfsbane Potion. As if on cue, he felt the urge to gag. Sirius gave him a funny look before turning his attention back to the potion. Remus was glad that Sirius seemed to be happy that they were doing something productive, even if it meant being a step closer to completing his plan for Operation: Humiliate My Best Mate. They fell into idle chatter about things, such as which part of his appearance might be radically altered or if Molly Weasley would have a heart attack upon seeing him. Or, more importantly, if Tonks would wet her knickers when she laid eyes on him.

He tried not to think too much about _that_. Even if the bright, almost neon kind of green color that the potion presently had reminded him of the wild colors she would wear her hair in, or the loud clothes that comprised her wardrobe. Just thinking about Nymphadora Tonks made Remus feel young and alive in a way that he hadn't felt since he was a Marauder; being near her sparked so many emotions in him that he thought he was too old and too weary to ever experience again. He never thought he could grow to fancy someone as quickly as he had Tonks, but she brought out a side of him that he thought had died along with his friends.

Remus just couldn't understand why she chose to spend so much time with him – it definitely wasn't because of his flashy threads or dashing looks. Somehow, he feared that his presence would slowly dull the brilliant light she radiated. He knew he could never match her youthful exuberance, yet he didn't feel worthy of being in her presence without trying, somehow, to reassure himself that if he looked less like an old codger, there might be more to their time together than the pity she felt for him, but hid well. Because that was it, wasn't it?

Still, the important thing was that she still seemed to like him enough to tease him, and not actually laugh at him, so much that they had grown to share their own private jokes. And so what if lately, he had taken to finding reasons to innocently brush his fingers against her skin? Maybe, as an added effect of his age, he was getting prematurely senile: he thought he saw her blushing as their conversation took a turn for the flirtatious. Or the way she seemed to brighten up even more, as impossible as it seemed, when she saw him. Sirius had merely pointed out what Remus already knew but refused to acknowledge, yet so many new thoughts were swirling around in his mind, shaking his normally stable ground, confusing him, and daring him to _hope_.

It was this hope that he clung to as the pungent stench of the potion infiltrated his nose. Nymphadora Tonks was absolutely worth gulping down a putrid potion and losing all his gray hair over. Perhaps, after this whole potion thing was done with, he would finally be worth Tonks.

* * *

It was just him and the potion now. 

Sirius had gone out to check up on Buckbeak and to harass Kreacher, but Remus knew his best friend had purposely left him alone to get his bearings. He took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose as the potion's disgusting odor entered his nose. He steeled himself and tried to ignore the voice that was telling him that he could still go back, it wasn't too late, and it would be so easy to _accidentally_ knock over the cauldron and spill its contents.

Instead, he took out a goblet and dipped it into the concoction. He drew it out from the cauldron and gazed at the turquoise liquid. Remus saw himself reflected on its clear surface, saw the difference between the man that he was and the man that this potion could make him be, and stiffened his resolve. He had often told himself that there was nothing he could do to be the man that Tonks deserved, but that potion told him otherwise. Here was a chance not to necessarily change himself for her, the girl with a thousand faces but with only one heart that he longed to capture, and he decided that it was time to do whatever he needed to gain the confidence he didn't have if he wanted to pursue her.

It was just him and the potion now.

He was doing this for Tonks.

He girded his loins, lifted the goblet to his lips, and took a gulp.

* * *

The following morning started like any other. Remus grunted and pulled the covers over his head, rolling over to his side as he looked for a comfortable position to sleep in. For most of the night, he had tossed and turned and, when that didn't work, stared at the ceiling in trepidation with his fists clenched. So what was it that bothered him and rendered his eyes incapable of closing? He didn't know how "looking young" was supposed to feel. 

He had taken the potion earlier (and despite its stench, it had a sort of minty aftertaste that wasn't half-bad) and again, all he had to do was wait. He knew it was a gradual process and that he wouldn't wake up the next morning looking like a teenager, but he couldn't stop himself from expecting to feel some sign of youth in his skin. He had stayed in front of the mirror for longer than he wanted to admit, as though blinking repeatedly at his reflection would make the roots of his hair grow darker or smoothen the lines on his face immediately. His inanimate companion had not, of course, minced any words about just how foolish it thought he was being.

Oh well, he always did think he sometimes missed being young and stupid. His sudden impatience was probably an early effect of taking the potion.

After a few minutes of fruitless attempts at getting some sleep, Remus finally summoned the energy to get out bed and face the music. Or face his reflection, to be more accurate. He yawned and raked a hand through his messy hair, and walked in a sleepy stupor towards the bathroom. He groaned as the morning sunlight streamed in from the windows he passed, and blindly tugged down the top of his green-striped pajamas. When he finally reached his destination, Remus snapped out of his stupor. His eyes grew wider and his breathing hitched as he placed a hand on the doorknob. It was time.

Nothing could prepare him for what he saw when he opened the door and laid eyes on himself.

"Morning, Lupin. Back here so early? You know, I'm actually growing to tolerate you. You're not as bad as – wait, did you do an Eyebag-Lifting Charm? Or are you just using a new kind of moisturizer?"

His saw his reflection do a double take. He hadn't said anything as the mirror spoke, and its last question was what jolted him back to reality.

He looked, well… _young._ Better. Nothing had drastically changed yet, but it seemed as though things such as full moons, lack of finances, and a war, amongst other things, didn't give him such a hard time.

Remus grinned. He was about to appraise his appearance more thoroughly, when he heard a crash right out in the corridor.

"Bugger!" an all-too familiar voice cried out in pain.

Without thinking twice, Remus swung the door open and sprinted out of the bathroom. He barely noticed how his joints seemed to creak less and how much lighter on his feet he was. When he saw Tonks sprawled on the wooden floor, he thought of nothing but to get to her. He knelt down beside her and held out a hand to help her up. "Are you all right?"

What he didn't count on was her eyes growing rounder and seeing a deep flush bloom across her cheeks.

"Remus?" she asked uncertainly, squinting as she reached up to grab his outstretched hand. "Is that you? Or have I finally knocked myself over one too many times and got a concussion?"

It was Remus' turn to blush. He smiled shyly and nodded.

"Right. I just had another clumsy moment. But you probably expected that."

After he pulled her to her feet, he stepped back and watched as she straightened herself up. She let her gaze linger on him, as though she still wasn't sure of what she was seeing. He swallowed nervously.

"Wotcher! What happened to you? You look… good," Tonks said, and Remus felt a thrill course up his spine at how she seemed to stammer and blush harder.

"I, er… thank you," was all he could coherently manage.

"Did you wake up with some sort of metamorphic powers or something? 'Cause I think your hair is looking a lot less gray," she jokingly added, but Remus didn't miss the shyness in her tone.

Remus let out a chuckle. "As much as how lovely that sounds, I didn't. But thank you for noticing." He raised his hand to feel his hair self-consciously, and he heard her giggle.

An awkward silence passed between them. They continued to watch each other uncertainly, with Tonks' dark eyes boring into his, before he felt the rest of her gaze trail up and down his body.

He took this to mean that she liked what she saw.

She was the first to break the silence. "I, er… was just going down to have some breakfast. Um… would you like to join me?"

It was all Remus could do not to break into a silly victory dance. "I'd be delighted to. Just give me a moment to change, and I'll be right down."

They exchanged bashful smiles before Tonks nodded, turning on her heel to head down the stairs.

_Yes, yes, yes!!!_

Remus retreated into the bathroom and closed the door. He glanced at the mirror and beamed.

Remus Lupin was a man who loved his reflection.

* * *

A/N2: Don't worry, it doesn't end there, 'cause I'm not quite finished with this fic. I originally planned on putting Tonks's POV in this, but it was getting too long and the deadline for the Jumble was near. Anyhow, look out for a sequel with Tonks's reaction to the new Remus. She doesn't seem to like it as much as he thinks... ;) 


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